#cubic room

[magdalenas2312]

After ages of not posting anything in here, I come to y’all with my first post. 3D cubic room done in Blender loosely followed by a 3dgreenhorn tutorial on YT. Takle care folks! I might come in here soon ;)

[cosmicbash]

he smol 🤏

[house-of-cards-and-crime]

SCAR WHISPERING/MUTTERING "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID" AFTER GRIAN'S "IT'S BIGGER THAN YOU"????

SIR

[opossums-in-a-trenchcoat]

Stumbled upon the backrooms at work

[mephestopheles]

I've kept them to the relatively damage free cantrips to keep things simplistic, but if you've got ideas share them

As usual share for more data

[clowndensation]

okay so here's a question for you all. how the fuck does one figure out the air exchange rate of a room that they don't know the dimensions of. pray tell.

[emotionalsupportdman]

when the nocturnal creature is nocturnal

[postmakerkiwi]

🌅 Lush Idol Springs - Arboreal Hall 🗿

With leaves above you and walls to the sides, this long but squat passageway provides a strange sense of coziness as the sounds of trees, insects, and nearby breezes envelop you...

photo by CatbatQuartet

[tgcg]

happy day of egbert

CG: DON'T YOU JUST HAVE THE MANUAL SOMEWHERE?

TG: dude its the most overwhelmingly basic thing on the planet trust me i literally did all the other settings for you

TG: all you gotta do is point the thing at egbert

TG: half press to focus subject

TG: press down fully and bam done the shit is shot

CG: BUT --

TG: i know youre desperate for this to be rocket science but its genuinely like first grade biz i promise whatever pic you take is gonna be fine

===

EB: yeah, come on karkat!

EB: i am only going to be the birthday bad ass for like, 24 hours total you know.

EB: longest birthday of my LIIIIIIIIFE. haha.

EB: oh hey, from one birthday-dooms day guy to another…

EB: i am pretty sure you understand the magnitude of what i just said!

===

CG: OH HEY. FUCK YOU.

CG: I'M JUST ACCOUNTING FOR THE LITERAL FUCKING INEVITABILITY THAT WHEN I TAKE THIS PHOTO, SOME INSIDIOUS LITTLE KARMA GNOME WILL FROLIC ONTO THE SCENE IN AN UNBELIEVABLE STROKE OF LOATHSOME SERENDIPITY TO BURY ME IN 12 CUBIC METERS OF FOOL-GRADE FUCKING IDIOT POWDER.

CG: AT WHICH POINT ANOTHER HEFTY BOULDER WILL BE ADDED TO THE BULGING MACRO-BINDLE OF SHAME YOU PEOPLE HAVE FORCED ME INTO CARRYING MY WHOLE LIFE.

CG: SHIT, SOMEONE HAS GOTTA LOOK OUT FOR MY ASS.

TG: alright give us a sec

TG: huddle formation

EB: psssshhh, alright.

===

TG: youre not gonna fuck this up

TG: your ass is completely secure dude

TG: i got the double foam padded booster seat and you know that shit is strapped on this 5mph drive through quaint ol piss-easyville

EB: you know if it really is so bad you can just re-take it, right?

EB: it is really not worth aggravationing your sponge over.

TG: 'xactly

TG: knights honor that shit isnt hooked up to my ishades and will not instantly forward me a copy in crisp HD of whatever blunder youre cooking in your beautiful nugbone

===

CG: IT'S NOT JUST THAT.

CG: HAVEN'T I SHADOWED YOUR PHOTOGRAPHY SHENANIGANS LONG ENOUGH FOR YOU TO TOSS ME A GODDAM BONE?

CG: I MEAN. I FEEL LIKE I'M READY FOR THIS. I'VE BEEN PRIMED FOR THIS BULLSHIT FOR EQUINOXES AT THIS POINT, WATCHING YOU PRANCE AROUND WITH THIS FUCKING THING.

TG: woah wait youre legit into it?

CG: YES, I AM LEGIT FUCKING INTO IT.

CG: AND I KNOW IT HAS SETTINGS YOU'RE HIDING FROM ME. WHAT IF I WANT TO TAKE A BLACK AND WHITE SHOT, HUH? WHAT IF I WANT TO ADJUST THE "APERTURE" OR THE "EXPOSURE" OR SOMETHING.

TG: alright i dig the enthusiasm but maybe we can unwrap that shit when we dont have someone waiting for us

TG: i didnt know you were scoping photography man you shoulda said something!

CG: I WAS PLANNING TO! I DIDN'T ENVISION IT COMING UP SO FRIGGIN SUDDENLY MAN.

TG: i promise ill open the pandoras fuckin box of snap addicts anonymous afterwards alright

===

CG: OK, FINE. BUT I AM HOLDING YOU TO THA --

===

CG: HA HA EGBERT. VERY FUCKING FUNNY.

CG: FOR YOUR SAKE I SERIOUSLY HOPE THIS IS JUST AN EMBARRASSING NOSTALGIA-DRIVEN LAPSE IN HUMOR AND NOT A GENUINE ATTEMPT TO "PRANK" ME. I REALLY DO!

EB: huh? who is this "egbert" you speak of? i have never heard of such a character.

CG: OH, JUST THIS BULGECRUD-HUFFING IMBECILE THAT FALLS BACK ON SHITTY PRACTICAL JOKES SO PLAYED-OUT THAT THEY PHYSICALLY HURT TO BEAR WITNESS TO.

CG: MY LOWER JAW IS THREATENING TO REVERSE-DROP WITH ENOUGH VELOCITY TO BURROW DIRECTLY INTO MY THOUGHT SPONGE, KILLING ME INSTANTLY.

CG: SO EITHER GET SOME NEW MATERIAL OR GET ME TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM, YOUR PICK.

EB: damn, ok. that does sound like some pretty serious bullshit, but…

===

EB: whoever that weirdo next to you is kind of seems like he needs medical resistance more than you do!

CG: WHAT

[sakuravulpes]

✎ ( sponsor ღ DollHolic ) ՞₊˚๑

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ eerie . Ghost Lashes [lel EVOX]

★⸝⸝ LOTUS. Carolina Eyes FATPACK

ღ More wonderful items for the event, this set of lashes is just beautiful, and the eyes are totally gorgeous!

✤ ʟᴀɴᴅᴍᴀʀᴋ

✤ ғʟɪᴄᴋʀ

✎ ( sponsor ღ Cubic Cherry ) ՞₊˚๑

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ [LAYERS] {Vala} evox skin - Velour FATPACK @ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴇʜᴏᴜsᴇ sᴀʟᴇ

ღ Vala is the first gorgeous female skin from Cubic Cherry and it's beautiful! It comes with skin and addons compatible with Velour tones. Super close look added in the comments and blog.

✤ ᴍᴀɪɴsᴛᴏʀᴇ

✤ ғʟɪᴄᴋʀ

✎ ( sponsor ღ ERSCH ) ՞₊˚๑

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ ERSCH - Lizzie Suit {LegacyPerky} @ᴍᴀɪɴsᴛᴏʀᴇ

ღ This outfit is so perfect! It's amazing it's sold per body pack with all the colors included in each pack, and also comes with a super sexy naughty version of the top.

✤ ᴍᴀɪɴsᴛᴏʀᴇ

✤ ғʟɪᴄᴋʀ

✎ ( sponsor ღ Polar Bunny ) ՞₊˚๑

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ polar<3bunny. amelia lipstick. Evo & EvoX. Fatpack @sᴋɪɴ ғᴀɪʀ

ღ Amelia is the newest lipgloss set and it's an exclusive for the event. All the colors are so stunning!

✤ ᴍᴀɪɴsᴛᴏʀᴇ

✤ ғʟɪᴄᴋʀ

✎ ( outfit & hair ) ՞₊˚๑

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ TRUTH Twisted - Essential

★⸝⸝ [Rezz Room] Box The Hand Animesh (Shoulder) >>Wear Me<<

✎ ( extras ) ՞₊˚๑

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ LeLUTKA Prim Head 3.1

★⸝⸝ [LEGACY] Meshbody (f) Perky Edition [+] Petite (1.5.1)

✎ ( backdrop ) ՞₊˚๑

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ MINIMAL - Wednesday Skybox

[sirenmoth]

Phantom Sensation

CW: RAPE/NON-CON, ghost sex, mirror sex, face slapping, face fucking, no lube, no prep, public sex, crying

Standing in the desolate changing cubical, the quietness was deafening as you smoothed over the fabric of the outfit you were trying out. A last minute invite meant a last minute urgent to any nearby clothing store you can find, hoping to score something suitable for the occasion. Turning this way and that to see how it looked and feels, sighing after deciding it didn't seem right as messaging that you weren't going. Looking back into the cubicle mirror you notice a crinkle on the fabric, like someone was holding it in their grasp, but you couldn't feel not see anyone there, and the changing rooms were all empty when you entered, not even an employee in sight.

Going to turn around, you pushed forward against the mirror, face turned sideways and eyes franticly trying to find someone or something in the small space, trying to find whoever or whatever is doing this. But still nothing, you shake and shiver as a set of invisible hands start to undo the fabric from your body, letting it bunch up and fall to the floor, leaving you bear and exposed. Still, the hands wonder, over your skin and down your sides and towards your hole, squeezing your hips and ass. Shaking your head as you plead the thing to leave you alone slip from your lips, unsure if it can actually hear you, you freeze up as you feel as second pair of hands akin to the first around your neck as the ones around your hips pulls you downwards, hard, causing you to fall to the ground with a sicking pop of your joints.

The hands around your neck disappear and the sensation of them squeezing your cheeks together and prying your mouth open is enough to bring tears to your eyes as they widen in fear, one set of fingers digging into your mouth and presses down on your tongue while another presses into your hole with a dry and rough pace and pressing against that sweet spot inside you. The fingers in your mouth reach back far, causing you to gag only to pull out and be replaced but a much thicker and girthier object that reaches the back of your throat again and again, each time it slides back into your mouth, you feel a solid wall hit your face and again and again as you struggle to breath. Your eyes roll back into your skull as the oxygen leaves your lungs

The same object enters your hole, quickly opening you up in one swift motion with the same dry and rough pace as before. Back and forth they move, your brain finally catches up to you, and that’s when you realize the things inside of you are cocks. Two, thick monstrous cocks splitting you open on both end, with no seeming concern for your wellbeing or safety. Seeking out their own pleasure from your own body.

Your vision starts to blacken when the entity in front pulls out, you think it’s giving you mercy as you cough up spit and what seems like pre-cum, but it's hard to tell, head hung low as you take in deep gulps of fresh air, your head swimming and eyes fuzzy, you think the beings are going to show mercy as the one behind slows. Only you were quickly proven wrong, a rough tug on your hair and a sharp slap across your face, again and again, each cheek turning bright red and stained with tears, before the invisible cock was shoved down your throat again. They want you awake for this. Why? You couldn't think of why.

You can see yourself in the mirror, mouth agape and lips swollen, jutting back and forth from the constant pulling from each unseen behind, both wanting you to themselves, treating you like a toy to fight over. Through blurry vision you see your ruined look, thoroughly fucked out and used, messy hair and teary eyes, bruised and sore skin. Muffled whines and gargled moans fill the room, a pained groan echoes out as the two beings empty themselves deep inside you, a salty yet cold substance coats your tongue and slides down your throat. Yet they don’t release you, stilling briefly before sliding out and switching back places, you take it as a moment of peace, to greedy take as much air as you can back in to your lungs, to try and process what is happening before they slide back in, using the goo-like substance left behind prior as lube. Not ready to leave or show mercy until they were satisfied. 

[cosmicbash]

he smol 🤏

[cosmikazie]

iterators have cubic puppet rooms because the ones in spherical rooms developed severe anxiety and paranoia as a result of not having any corners

[nasa]

Roman's primary structure hangs from cables as it moves into the big clean room at NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center.

What Makes the Clean Room So Clean?

When you picture NASA’s most important creations, you probably think of a satellite, telescope, or maybe a rover. But what about the room they’re made in? Believe it or not, the room itself where these instruments are put together—a clean room—is pretty special. 

A clean room is a space that protects technology from contamination. This is especially important when sending very sensitive items into space that even small particles could interfere with.

There are two main categories of contamination that we have to keep away from our instruments. The first is particulate contamination, like dust. The second is molecular contamination, which is more like oil or grease. Both types affect a telescope’s image quality, as well as the time it takes to capture imagery. Having too many particles on our instruments is like looking through a dirty window. A clean room makes for clean science!

Two technicians clean the floor of Goddard’s big clean room.

Our Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland has the largest clean room of its kind in the world. It’s as tall as an eight-story building and as wide as two basketball courts.

Goddard’s clean room has fewer than 3,000 micron-size particles per cubic meter of air. If you lined up all those tiny particles, they’d be no longer than a sesame seed. If those particles were the size of 16-inch (0.4-meter) inflatable beach balls, we’d find only 3,000 spread throughout the whole body of Mount Everest!

A clean room technician observes a sample under a microscope.

The clean room keeps out particles larger than five microns across, just seven percent of the width of an average human hair. It does this via special filters that remove around 99.97% of particles 0.3 microns and larger from incoming air. Six fans the size of school buses spin to keep air flowing and pressurize the room. Since the pressure inside is higher, the clean air keeps unclean air out when doors open.

A technician analyzes a sample under ultraviolet light.

In addition, anyone who enters must wear a “bunny suit” to keep their body particles away from the machinery. A bunny suit covers most of the person inside. Sometimes scientists have trouble recognizing each other while in the suits, but they do get to know each other’s mannerisms very well.

This illustration depicts the anatomy of a bunny suit, which covers clean room technicians from head to toe to protect sensitive technology.

The bunny suit is only the beginning: before putting it on, team members undergo a preparation routine involving a hairnet and an air shower. Fun fact – you’re not allowed to wear products like perfume, lotion, or deodorant. Even odors can transfer easily!

Six of Goddard’s clean room technicians (left to right: Daniel DaCosta, Jill Bender, Anne Martino, Leon Bailey, Frank D’Annunzio, and Josh Thomas).

It takes a lot of specialists to run Goddard’s clean room. There are 10 people on the Contamination Control Technician Team, 30 people on the Clean Room Engineering Team to cover all Goddard missions, and another 10 people on the Facilities Team to monitor the clean room itself. They check on its temperature, humidity, and particle counts.

A technician rinses critical hardware with isopropyl alcohol and separates the particulate and isopropyl alcohol to leave the particles on a membrane for microscopic analysis.

Besides the standard mopping and vacuuming, the team uses tools such as isopropyl alcohol, acetone, wipes, swabs, white light, and ultraviolet light. Plus, they have a particle monitor that uses a laser to measure air particle count and size.

The team keeping the clean room spotless plays an integral role in the success of NASA’s missions. So, the next time you have to clean your bedroom, consider yourself lucky that the stakes aren’t so high!

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[astrophileous]

Hmmmmm for Hotch maybe him lowkey coddling reader when she gets hurt shortly during a case shortly after they start dating? Maybe the team wasn’t aware until they saw him fret this much when he had never done it to this level in the past? 🥹

Thanks for the request babes!! My first Aaron fic ever, so hopefully it's not too bad for a first 🥺 I hope this is to your liking ❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, established relationship, talks of traffic accident, mentions of injuries, protective hotch, mean words (hotch is just worried abt you ok??)

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You heard him before you even laid eyes upon him.

Amidst the beeping machines and the moderate ruckus of the emergency room, Aaron's voice penetrated the air like a sword. The authority dripped like lava from his tone as he badgered Derek for your whereabouts, and before you could shuffle out of the hospital bed that had been your safe haven for the past hour, the cubical curtain surrounding you was suddenly yanked open.

Your movements ceased once you locked eyes with a frowning Aaron Hotchner.

"Hey—"

"Are you insane?"

You looked at him dumbfoundedly.

"Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?"

A few feet behind him, you could see Derek and Emily exchanging silent looks between the two of them. Everyone knew that Aaron was notorious for being frigid, and he had a strong impartiality when it came to any of his team members doing something impetuous on the field, but the words seeping out of Aaron's mouth at that moment sounded overtly harsh to those who knew him.

"Hotch—" Derek took a step forward, trying to come to your defense, "—it's not (Y/N)'s fault."

"I'm not talking to you." Aaron's response was cutting and final. It baffled Derek enough for him to trace his step back.

"What's wrong with you?" you asked once the shock dissipated, returning your voice to its rightful owner once more. "Why are you being like this?"

"Me? You're asking me? I should be the one asking you."

Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "We were chasing the UnSub—"

"You went rogue," he cut you off. "Morgan told me everything. There's no point in denying it."

Derek raised his arms in surrender when your stare of betrayal slid his way. "Fine. I'm sorry I grabbed a random civilian's bike and crashed it against the UnSub's car. You don't have to worry about paying anything back, I'll figure something out."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could care less about monetary compensations. We can deal with that later. You could've been killed, don't you understand?"

It was his last admission that finally made the pieces in your head click into place. Beneath the anger inside Aaron's words was actually a hidden anxiety ready to break free. He was worried about you, even if he was showing it in the least hospitable way possible.

Your relationship with Aaron was young; green around the edges and blooming every single day like tulips in spring. Nobody else in the world knew about it yet, and the two of you wanted to keep it that way. At least, that was what you agreed upon after having that lengthy discussion following your first official date.

And yet, none of that mattered when your fingers opted to reach out for Aaron's hand. You pretended not to notice the gasp that Emily let out as you urged your boyfriend to look into your eyes.

"I know you're worried, but I'm fine. I'm right here with you, and I'm okay." Aaron's shoulders physically collapsed at your reassurance. Every other noise in the hospital seemed to drown out in the aftermath. "The doctor's gonna clear me in no time, trust me."

"It still doesn't erase the fact that what you did was reckless." Aaron stepped closer towards the bed, overcrowding your senses as his thumb swept over your left eyebrow, just below the wound you had obtained from the crash. "Does it hurt?"

You shook your head no. The injury to your head was relatively minor. Your arm, on the other hand, was sustaining a quite sizable gash from your collision with the car.

Aaron's eyes followed your gaze that had meandered towards the gauze covering your arm. "How many stitches?"

Reluctantly, you answered, "Seven."

You heard his sharp breath before he turned around to face Derek. "Where's the UnSub now?"

Derek jerked his head to the right, where you reckoned the UnSub was being treated for their own injuries from the crash. The words of protest died in your throat as Aaron began to saunter to the other end of the ER with Derek hot on his heels.

With the two men's departure, Emily was the only one who remained.

"So—" she smiled knowingly, leaning against the foot of your bed, "—you and Hotch? When did that happen?"

You slammed your head back on the pillow, muffling your groan with your uninjured arm. "Shut up."

[merakiui]

perverse phantasmagoria: a tentacular theatre for the timid.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, mentions of death/murder, obsession note - something short to satisfy the craving for shadow monster azul.

The monster under your bed is a marvelous magician.

Most marvelous indeed—for he can ensorcell with all manner of fantastical tricks! In flickering candlelight, shapes shift in shadow—a rabbit hopping to and fro or a bird taking flight in a flurry of feathers. A ship sinking in a sinister sea or a worm wriggling through soil. Illusions waltz upon your wall in a graceful ballet, a comforting distraction meant to soothe you to sleep when you grow somnolent.

You are the only one to witness the magnificence of this tentacular theatre. It is confined within the cubic space that is your bedroom, a nightly display projected onto the walls and ceiling, just beyond the curtains of your creaky four-poster bed. He entertains until you’re properly heavy-eyed, slipping through the slivers of reality into fruitful slumber.

While cradled in a sea of sheets, buoyed by curious, curling limbs, you dream of devilish pleasures—of treacherous temptations so visceral they would certainly scandalize the sisters at the church.

The monster under your bed never utters a word, but you know he is there.

He is cold and calm like Death, yet merciful and mystical like an angel. He carries with him odors of the ocean, enveloping you in his briny embrace every night. Tentacles loop gently around your body, sliding beneath silken nightwear, and he plays in the same skillful way he manipulates shadow. You’re strung along the highs and lows of bodily bliss, rocked gently by a creature who dwells in the darkness.

The monster under your bed does not possess a true form, but he holds bright shallows in his eyes.

Shapeless and transient, wavering through dozens of features, he mesmerizes with his stunning hues. They blink at you in the darkness, twin beacons set into a towering lighthouse. You reach for him, pushing past pitch-black phantasmagoria, and beg to see his face. He swallows all light sources, so you will never truly know if there is anything more to those beautiful blues.

The monster under your bed does not have a name, so you call him Azul. Much like his eyes when they pin you to the bed, the name sticks.

A terrible tempest rages outside, rattling the windows in their frames, battering the glass like bullets, and howling through the trees in a most fearsome gale. You lie in your bed, wide-awake and disturbed, and gaze at the canopy. Lightning cracks across the sky in a violent arc, brightening your room for a single second. The thunder follows, rumbling in deep, foreboding notes. With a shiver, you pull your duvet up to your chin. Fear is encroaching. You steel yourself, steady your pounding heart, and inhale sharply.

The monster under your bed is gentle.

He has never hurt you and you suspect he never will. But he is vindictive, a dangerous force who lurks in forgotten corridors and corners during the day. Though he remains out of light’s reach, avoiding the sun’s fingers as they spill in from windows with parted curtains, nothing escapes his glance. He is always watching. You can feel it.

The monster under your bed is brilliant pest control.

He rids the manor of rats and insects alike, swabs the ceilings of cobwebs. He feasts on venomous spiders and snakes, blood drained from carcasses small and large. Trespassers wander far enough to find themselves tangled in the tendrils of a beast. Skeletons snap and shatter in his grasp, so startlingly fast and brutal. There isn’t a scream. No tears. He does not grant them the permission to confess last words.

Flesh rots away, stripped clean from the bone. There is no distinction to be made here. Suitors are trespassers. Thieves are trespassers. Trespassers are trespassers, and they will die as such.

The monster under your bed has a sweet tooth, a discovery you’ve only recently determined. You plate pastries and slide them under your bed, and the porcelain china is returned by morning, licked clean of crumbs.

For all of his mysterious qualities, the monster under your bed is your paramour.

“Azul,” you whisper, your voice much louder in disconcerting quiet. “Are you there, Azul?”

Shadows slither up the expanse of your mattress, crawling over wrinkled linens, to meet you in the gloom. The tip of a tentacle nudges your cheek. The monster—your monster—is here.

“A detective came by today…” Blue meets you in the dark, snapped open at once. “To inquire about a select few.”

He blinks, offering silence as his stubborn reply.

“Missing lords and ladies. They say my manor is cursed and that it is these very disappearances that keep the grounds so lush. An immature accusation.” You search the shadows for a response. “You mustn’t send them to their graves, Azul.”

Another tentacle peels the duvet back to find your hand. It fits into your palm, wrapped tight like a bow on a present. Slowly and slyly, more appendages rise from the space beneath your bed to coil around your person. They massage soothing circles into your skin, exploring eagerly and peppering your flesh in frigid kisses. The effect is soporific. You slacken against the sheets, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mmh… Azul, I’m quite serious…” You close your hand around the tentacle. “You mustn’t—oh!” Your legs are yanked apart then, and a thick tentacle presses up between your thighs. You peer into his narrowed eyes. If you could see his mouth, you’re certain it’d be turned down in a petulant pout. “Won’t you listen to me?”

The tentacles curled around your thighs constrict. He teases your special spot, fine-tuning your body to sing the sweetest of songs. Two more attach to your chest like lecherous leeches, tweaking your nipples under soft suckers. You sigh, pent-up emotions unfurling from their ravel. Lightning flashes again, the rain insistent, and so he drapes a tentacle over your eyes.

“There’s no need to do that.” You run your fingers over it, but you don’t pull it off. “I want to see you. I want to hear your voice. Tell me—” you whine in relief when he pushes in, your anatomy accustomed to his size after months of midnight whimsy— “Let me… Oh, won’t you speak to me, Azul? Tell me—promise me you won’t act so callous the next time I welcome visitors.”

“Intruders,” he finally answers. Despite the malice shot through those three syllables, it is a musical intonation. His voice is deep and dulcet, tickling your ears in the best way.

“You’re being rather unfair in your narrow-minded assessment.”

“And you are not narrow-minded enough,” comes his rumbling reply, synced flawlessly with the thunder just outside. “I shall protect you and this property for as long as I continue to exist. That is my priority.”

Your lips part in a retort, but all that comes out is a shuddering sigh.

“Visitors are not villains,” you manage after you’ve found your voice. “P-Please—aah—be kind… You mustn’t hurt them. They’re—haa—only visitors. I promise you I’m safe.”

“Visitors are the same as intruders. They’re unwanted. Unnecessary. Nuisances. Pests.”

Azul rocks the tentacle deeper inside you. Your nails dig into the one in your hand, and you heave a wobbly sort of groan.

“I won’t arg—ooh—won’t argue with you. I only ask that you understand. They are not dangers.”

“They are,” he snaps, pistoning roughly. You cry out when he pierces a specific spot nestled within. “They will take you away from me. Poison your head with foolish ideas. Destroy our home…”

“T-That will never happen. Not if I can help it.”

Another beat of lightning. Thunder follows suit. Gingerly, he lifts the tentacle veiling your visage. Blue blinks back at you.

“Promise.”

His whisper is broken and sad. Strangely, your heart aches.

“Only if you promise to cease your slaughter. It’s not—” A tentacle presses against your mouth, silencing you. When it draws away to give you another chance, you sigh, knowing just what to say. “Thank you…for protecting me, Azul.”

Satisfied with your submission, he smooths his pace out into slow, sensual lovemaking. You ride the waves of mutual merriment alongside him, no longer fearing the raging storm beyond your room. The world shrinks down to fit inside your bedroom, where paradise is found in the sheets, and nothing else matters here. Swathed safely in shadow, wrapped around the monster under your bed, you drift off into sleepy delirium.

He remains, ever-present like a parasite, the sole actor standing on the stage in this thrilling, tentacular theatre.